The Seamstress' Daughter
by THE.STAR.FREEDOM
Summary: Paisley Brown. Merchant girl. Seventeen. Father-less. She is close friends with the boy whose name is plucked out out of the glass ball by Miss Effie Trinket. It isn't until he's thrown into the Games that her eyes are opened. By multiple people. ON HIATUS!


**Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable characters. I DO OWN PAISLEY AND HER FAMILY. I also came up with Peeta's brother's name. Just FYI!  
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**Synopsis: Paisley Brown. Merchant girl. Seventeen. Father-less. She is close friends with the boy whose name is plucked out out of the glass ball by Miss Effie Trinket. It isn't until he's thrown into the Games that her eyes are opened. By multiple people.**

Chapter One. The Reaping

To _them,_I was just another seventeen year-old girl.

To _them__, _I was just one girl out of thousands who had her name in the reaping bowl twenty-eight times.

To _them,_ I was just another piece in their little games.

To _them__, _our suffering was their enjoyment.

I was just a merchant girl. I was just the daughter of a seamstress. But even I needed the tesserae for my family –me, my mother, and my fourteen year-old brother.

For a merchant girl, I stuck out like a sore thumb. My hair was dark, like most of the people who lived in the Seam, but my eyes were my father's bright blue –the only quality that told me that part of me was from here. My father was from the merchant -blonde hair and blue eyes- while my mother was from the Seam –dark hair with dark eyes. When I was only eleven, right after my first reaping, my father died in a fire that took place in the shop he worked.

On the day of the Reaping, I got up early because I wanted to see Gale Hawthorne before the Reaping began, but I remembered that he would be out hunting with Katniss. Instead, I decided to see Liam Mellark, the baker's second-oldest son –he was a year older than I was at the time. I hugged my brother. It always killed me to know that if he was called, I couldn't volunteer for him.

At the time, I was in pants, a shirt, and a jacket, so that I could pick up something from the bakery, for us to –hopefully- celebrate tonight that neither me nor my brother was chosen. I had the mended trousers in my hand that belonged to one Peeta Mellark, which I was to trade for bread. Most people in District Twelve didn't buy things but traded what they had for what they needed. We got by mostly on trading mending or making clothing for food; however, now and again, people would just pay for the clothing or mending that they needed, which was always nice. But the money never lasted for too long.

With a kiss on my mother's cheek and a ruffle of my brother's hair, I was off towards the Mellark's bakery. As I walked down the streets of Twelve, I spotted kids playing in the dirt, all too young to be in the Reaping. The walk wasn't long, just a few minutes by foot. In those minutes, I'm silently praying that my brother's name isn't drawn, nor Gale's, nor Liam's, nor Peeta's, nor my own name. There's nothing else that I _can_ do. Nothing but hope.

I saw Mrs. Mellark through the bakery window, sitting at the front of the store. Hiding behind the tree, I sneaked to the back door of the shop. Mrs. Mellark isn't on many people's good side. She's a strict, uptight woman who gets along with few people. Both Peeta and Mr. Mellark knew that I was coming, so I sat outside until one of them came out. In a few minutes, Peeta was opening in the door with an apron around his waist with some frosting on it.

"Good morning Paisley," Peeta Mellark stated from above me.

Instantly, I was on my feet, trousers in hand. "Hi Peeta," I smiled at the younger boy, "here are your pants, mended and all."

"Thank you Paisley," Peeta smiled at me and handed me parchment with bread wrapped inside. There was a silence between us, "How many times is your name in today?"

"Twenty-four, I guess you could say the odds aren't exactly in my favor," I forced a small smile on my face as I looked at the five foot ten sixteen year-old in front of me.

Peeta pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead, bending down a few inches. "You'll be okay, you won't get picked. There are thousands of slips of paper; you've been okay so far."

I thanked him quietly, "Thanks, I'm mostly just worried about James. If he's called, then there's nothing I can do." Peeta comforted me with his words. He always did have a way with words.

He offered to go get Liam, but I politely refused, saying that I needed to go get ready for the Reaping ceremony. With a squeeze of my hand, Peeta whispered in my ear, "Wear something pretty. If you go to the Capitol, you need to look your best." He wished me good luck before I walked back home with the bread. Not the best trade on the baker's part, but he was a kind man.

It was nearing noon, and I was getting dressed up, washed and ready for the Reaping. The most dreaded time of year for every family with children from the ages of twelve to eighteen. My name was in the bowl twenty-four times this year. James, my brother, had his name in twelve times. I stood before a mirror as my mother tightened the dress around me. The dress was one that we acquired from my father's sister. It was nice, dark blue color. Not that I cared much for dresses. She braided my hair in an up-do that she learned from her mother.

The time was almost noon, so the three of us walked down to the town center together. Once being checked in by the Peacekeepers, I spotted Gale and attempted to make my way over to him. I got caught in the shoving of the girls behind me. I made my way to the section with the seventeen year-olds. I caught his eye and mouthed '_Good luck.'_

His lips move in return _'You too.__' _I see Peeta's face in the crowd of sixteen year-olds and exchange a small smile of luck.

The usual occured. Mayor Undersee got up and said the normal story of the history of Panem. Haymitch stumbled on stage as Effie welcomed us.

"Let's begin," Effie dismissed the incident with Haymitch, her curls now slightly off center, "Ladies first." Twenty-four slips. Twenty four chances for my name to be drawn from the large, glass ball full of names. "Primrose Everdeen." My heart practically stopped when, only after a few moments, Katniss ran up to volunteer for Prim. When Prim wouldn't leave, Gale took her to Mrs. Everdeen.

"Now for the boys," Effie's Capitol accent was really getting to me, just as it did every year. She swirled her hand around before picking one slip of paper. She strutted back to the microphone in her ridiculous shoes.

My heart stopped as she read the name on the paper into the microphone.

"Peeta Mellark."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Read and Review. Please and Thank you my baby Penguins. P.S. You guys (my readers), yeah, I call you my baby penguins.  
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